


Pride

by Fabrisse



Category: Coriolanus - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgilia's perspective on the events taking place around her just before, during, and just after the events in the play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexElizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexElizabeth/gifts).



> I've loved this play for a long time. I've seen two live productions(RSC with Alan Howard and Shakespeare's Globe with Jonathan Cake) and the Tom Hiddleston version through National Theatre Live. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write it.

I hear his name everywhere. This war with the Volscii has brought him to the fore, my brave husband, my loving spouse. Everywhere they are not speaking his name, they are talking about the grain ration. I don't know what to think.

It is not easy sharing a house with Volumnia. Caius is the paterfamilias, but all Rome knows he's ruled more by his mother than by the Senate and populace of Rome. In my uncharitable moments, I wonder how he's able to command an army without her. But I know that's unfair to him. He's a good commander of men, his legions will follow him anywhere and not just because he brings them victory, because he is a lion among men, a natural commander who doesn't fear for his own safety at their expense. All his men know and respect that and love him for it.

Volumnia understands the politics of Rome, not just the city, but the territories we're conquering, the world we're creating. If she were a man, they'd have made her dictator by now. She even carries herself as if she's togate. Since she can't command the Republic, she will command her son.

***  
"Coriolanus" -- Caius has an agnomen proclaiming him the instrumental victor of the battle. The general was Cominius, but it is Caius who has won the day for Rome. I wonder if they gave him the grass crown, too. I wonder what he had to have done for this honor.

I see the wounds when he comes to me in the night. I know the pattern they make on his chest, never his back, better than I know my own fate line. Will this battle have added something new for my hands and tongue to map? Will he be marred? His face is so handsome, his only scar on it from a careless barber, not a sword. I see the wounds of other women's men, missing limbs or eyes or so scarred that even the prostitutes have a hard time keeping their demeanors calm to earn their fees.

When next I'm in the forum, I will sacrifice a gander to Mars since geese protect the City the same way my husband does. And I will ask of him and his mistress Venus, to bring back my husband beautiful and whole.

***  
"My gracious silence" he calls me, and I am glad that my arms and my body are a refuge for him. He is home. He is whole. He is here.

***  
There must be worse ideas than Caius running for Consul. Invading Carthage, maybe? Trying to swim in full armor? Volumnia wants honor and glory. I'm happy he came back with his shield, not on it, but she wants to be Mater Romana, chosen by Juno to exceed all other mothers through her son.

Or perhaps I do her wrong. Perhaps, she truly believes Caius can mingle among the populace without affronting them.

I tried to ask Menenius to stop this madness, but he assured me the victor over the Volscii wouldn't need to do much campaigning. A few days in the forum wearing the toga alba would be all that is required. But if he must display his wounds, ask for their support, I fear it will not be as simple as Menenius would like.

***  
Caius is gone. Standing in the forum proved to be far too much. Menenius quietly took me aside and apologized. He knew the family, but truly hadn't realized how little Caius knew or cared about politics. As a soldier, he could bring glory to Rome, _that_ is -- was -- his service to the Republic. Since we married, I don't think he's been to the Senate more than twice. Politics, well, it has always been Volumnia's forte, and to Caius that made it a game for women.

He's been exiled. It is a devastation. My mother-in-law worries about the family. Young Martius will be togate soon and a father in exile will hurt him. Already people notice his resemblence to his father: his pride, his carriage, his war-like nature. Even Valeria, flighty, fluttery Valeria spoke of seeing him mammock a butterfly. 

Resembling his father Coriolanus, hero of the battles against the Volscii, would have made him whether or not Caius ever became consul. Resembling Caius Martius, the exile…

I long for him. 

***  
The Volscii march toward Rome under Aufidius and Martius leads them. They call him Coriolanus, too, the name of their greatest city given to its conqueror and now given back to them.

I listen to the discussions between Menenius and Volumnia and I know how they rail against the populace for not valuing him.

My worries are not the City's worries. I don't care for the populace who drove him out. Their pride is at least as great, as blinding, as his or his mother's. It's wrong of me, but at this moment, I don't even care about young Martius. Instead I'm jealous of Aufidius who gets to walk beside my husband. I know they've met in battle many times, and I wonder which of Caius' scars he caused, what marks my husband has left on his body. It seems that Aufidius must know Caius more intimately than I do. I've never left a mark that stayed for more than a day, a bruise, not a scar. It's not enough.

Caius loves Rome. He loves us. He will never turn his back on those of us he loves.

***  
Cominius failed. Menenius failed, and the man will be exiled himself for his failure. Now we have been asked, by the same cowards who expelled him, to ask him to turn back from Rome. Valeria is to join us to make a traditional Roman triad. Why are we so obsessed with threes?

Our stola are black. I wove them myself, as a good Roman matron ought to. Our linen pallae are dyed yellow with saffron with simple black embroidery. No jewelry beyond our fibulae, belted with hemp, shod in simple sandals, we go to entreat a conqueror not to conquer us. Volumnia has insisted that young Martius come along, even though he is not yet wearing the toga. His tunic is plain black wool, too. I fear for him as much as I do for his father.

***  
We begged. And Caius Martius Coriolanus, so great in his pride the populace say, acquiesced. He was great in his dignity as he left us, and my body longed for one last night to lie against his. I made certain young Martius said goodbye to his father.

I heard the howls from the Volscian encampment after we left. This morning, my husband's desecrated body was left at the gates of Rome.

Volumnia waxed eloquent to her political friends about the greatness of her son Coriolanus, who was the only general who could take Rome, but who was too much a Roman too invade. She glorified her part in it until I had to leave the atrium.

She should never have called after me, told me that I should be lauding his deeds too, for the family's sake, for my son's sake. I came back as she demanded.

I slapped her.


End file.
